Sine Qua, Nihil Sum
by Tycoris 1307
Summary: Ozai was defeated six years ago, but the gang aren't gathering to celebrate. Katara doesn't understand why she can't just accept her losses, but her work with Fire Nation prisoners may show her a way to cope. Rated for violence and later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: "Sine qua non" is a Latin phrase meaning "Without which not", which refers to something that is absolutely necessary or essential, and without it something cannot be done. In that vein and my bad Latin notwithstanding, "Sine Qua, Nihil Sum" roughly means "Without you, I am nothing".

Disclaimer: Avatar the Last Airbender and its characters belong to Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino. It's probably best that way.

* * *

**Chapter One**

This land had once been a paradise. It had been a land of lush green forests and water rushing over the rocks into deep pools below, of winding trails through tangled bracken and natural glades where houses had once stood. The fragments of parchment recovered from the remains of the elders' hut had described its everlasting beauty in three different languages, reflecting the natural alliance of Earth, Air and Water in this place. Now those charred fragments were kept in a sealed box in the Southern Air Temple as the only record of a people destroyed in a swathe of flame and smoke. She had only seen the scrolls once, but the ink paintings of trees encircling blue pools and a spotted deer fawn peering out of a grass thicket had stayed in her memory. She had traced the light brush strokes with her finger, aching to touch the parchment and capture the reverence that had once guided the brush, afraid to do so and destroy such beautiful workmanship.

Now those tall trees were broken stumps of charcoal jutting through the baked earth, those deep pools were dry pits of stones and blistered clay. Now small children played in those riverbeds, chasing one another across the cracked ground with shrieks and screams of delight. She had long grown used to their games, but when she first arrived, each cry had sent her running to the riverbed in search of an enemy that no longer existed. Fire Nation soldiers hadn't been sighted here since the death of Fire Lord Ozai almost six years ago.

"Ready!"

The warning shout jolted Katara back to the present. She moved with the members of her team, grabbing the ropes that dangled from the wooden crane and deftly unknotting the rope that held vast crates suspended above the ground. It took only minutes for the experienced team to unload the crates and push them down the ramp into the cool underground storage chambers, fashioned by the earthbenders that had helped rebuild the village. The crates were deftly pulled apart and salvaged while the remainder of the team lifted the dozen enormous jars into the storage racks.

"Good work, everybody!" Katara called to her group as they trudged back up the ramp into the bright sunlight. She didn't need to break the seal on the vast earthenware jars to know their contents; she could _feel _the cool water rippling inside them. As much as she longed to dip her fingers into the fresh clear ice-melt, she knew that the moment she opened a jar, the precious water inside would begin to evaporate. Even in this cool chamber, the risk was too great.

"Come on, Katara." The enormous bulk of the quartermaster appeared in the entrance to the storeroom. He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. "The next sand-barge is already unloading. The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can seal this place again." Although an earthbender by birth, he shared the waterbender's anxiety to preserve every precious drop of water.

"All right." As much as Katara wanted to linger in the cool darkness, she was needed outside. She couldn't resist placing her hand against the nearest jar and pulling gently with her powers, drawing the water against the side, until only an inch of clay separated it from her palm.

"Soon," the quartermaster told her with a warm smile. "As soon as we finish unloading, I can give you some fresh water."

"Good. Bandages and herbs may be a useful method, but it's slower than a turtle-lion swimming upstream. The sooner we can heal these people, the sooner we can send them home."

"And the sooner you finish unloading the barges, the sooner you can have some water. Go on, get out of here." He squeezed her shoulder fondly. Katara smiled brightly and ran up the ramp, sidestepping to narrowly avoid the next crates being pushed down to the storage chambers by her sweating, cursing team.

The heat slammed into her like a solid wall, and she felt her mouth drying out in a single breath. The searing winds brought no relief from the persistent heat and, for a moment, she remembered those days spent wandering helplessly in the desert after Appa's capture. At least she could leave this man-made wasteland and its faint smell of despair at any time, provided that she could barter passage on one of the sand-barges.

She glanced towards the wooden lookout tower and the figure standing on the tiny roofed platform. It had become an unconscious habit recently and her agitation had not passed unnoticed. One of her team members and her first apprentice came to stand beside Katara and squinted up into the glare of the noon sun.

"You shouldn't worry so much. Jin might not be able to shoot a bow anymore, but he's got a sharpshooter's eyes. He could spot a fly landing in the North Pole. There's no way he'll miss a messenger hawk." She smiled reassuringly at her former master. "Or a glider."

"I'm not worried," Katara replied automatically. _The first rule of leadership: never show fear or worry in front of the troops_. She had learned as much from watching the leader of the village at work.

"Impatient?" suggested the woman, a little too innocently. Impatient for what, Katara decided she didn't want to know.

"What we're doing is all good and well," Katara replied, choosing her words carefully to avoid revealing the dissatisfaction that grew each day, "but I feel like I'm just waiting for permission to do more."

"Oh. Are you sure that's all it is?" The young woman visibly deflated at Katara's curt nod. "Oh well. I'm sure the Avatar will send word any day now."

"I hope so. Because—"

"Ready!" Once again the dock master's shout interrupted Katara. The wooden crane swung to a halt overhead, its timbers groaning a soft protest and the ropes creaking as the palette of crates swung back and forth. Once again the workers unknotted the rope and carefully fed the line, inching the palette closer to the ground below, chanting out their count. Katara joined them and fed the rope through her callused palms, hearing the rope creak loudly with strain.

Two things happened at once. As the loud snap echoed in the still air, Katara glimpsed movement on the deck of the sand-barge. Red and black. A horrifically familiar pattern. The ground leapt underfoot, wood splintering and ceramic jars shattering on impact. Water gleamed in the sunlight as two shining spears flew at their targets. The splash as they struck became a brittle crack, water becoming ice and ice becoming shackles. The two men struggled weakly as they hung from the hull of the barge. Katara glanced down at the curls of water flowing around her hands and her feet spread in her familiar defensive stance. Already the other waterbenders were drawing the water out of the ground, creating a vast droplet that sparkled overhead as the camp's earthbenders fashioned a basin from the rock underfoot.

Ignoring the shouts around her, Katara stalked towards the trapped men, whose lips were turning blue with cold. Her instincts had served her well. They wore the black armour lined with red that she still saw in her nightmares. Fire Nation soldiers. The water around her hands curled into whips but at the sight of the tall, muscular man standing on the bow of the sand-barge, she released the water and let it spill onto the ground.

"Waterbender." That authoritative tone might have captained a sand-barge across the wasteland, but Katara had also heard him giggle in his sleep and squeal in terror at the sight of a wolf-bat. He leapt down from the bow and pulled her into a crushing hug.

"I haven't seen you since... well, forever! Why don't you write anymore?" Sokka demanded, holding her at arm's length to look her up and down. "I don't hear from you in a year and when I finally track you down, you're _here _of all places? You look even skinnier, if that's possible. I mean..." Sokka noticed the stares of his crew and released her, giving her a firm pat on the shoulder instead. "Good to see you, Katara."

"It's good to see you too," Katara wheezed, bending over as she gasped for breath. "Guess you missed me."

"Like a waterbender misses the ocean. What _are _you doing out here? I thought you vowed to never set foot in a desert again, and this place isn't far off." Sokka gestured at their surroundings. "But before that, could you let my men down?"

Katara looked up at the two men trapped in the ice, which was rapidly melting in the sunlight. A second later, two very wet Fire Nation soldiers had dropped onto the ground. She turned back to her brother and automatically looked past him for the other person that should have been there. There was only empty space and a sinking feeling in her stomach. Sokka noticed her crestfallen look and smirked.

"Don't worry, Katara. Aang may be tangled up with Avatar stuff, but he hasn't forgotten about you."

Katara rolled her eyes rather than dignify that remark with a response and hoped that Sokka wouldn't mistake the colour in her cheeks for a blush. His smirk widened and she knew that the spirits were not looking on her kindly. A glimpse of red distracted her as the Fire Nation soldiers picked themselves up from the ground with great difficulty, their limbs still numbed and sluggish from her ice prison. Urgency reasserted itself.

"Tell me what's going on, Sokka." Katara avoided looking at the soldiers, whose appearance still made her stomach twist in horror. "What are you doing here with Fire Nation soldiers?"

"They're not Fire Nation soldiers, they're just wearing the uniform," Sokka replied. "Just an idea I had to make our work easier. But right now, I need to speak to whoever's in charge."

Katara nodded stiffly. "That would be Hana. Come on, I'll take you to her." She was delighted to see her brother again, but the fright of seeing Fire Nation soldiers remained and mingled with her unease over Sokka's unspecified mission. A leaden weight settled in her stomach as she led Sokka away towards the streets of the village.

Change was in the wind and she wasn't sure that she liked its new direction.

* * *

A simple truth lay between the broad iron panels, and she was determined to find it. Fingers scrabbling in the shallow groove, chasing, searching. She ignored her cracked, bleeding nails and the metal splinters searing under her skin, the pain barely registering in the back of her mind. On some days, she could count the separate panels underfoot as she paced the length and breadth of the cell, on other days she could barely feel the floor beneath her.

Today was one of those days. Like so many days before it, her nerves seemed to be slumbering, rendering her movements clumsy and leaden without the guidance of touch. She could no longer remember a world beyond this tiny, perfect darkness. Without the light of sun or moon to indicate the passage of days, forced to rely on the distant sounds that reached her to measure time, she had long ago given up such trivial concerns as recognising day or night.

She knew that this eternal night would never be broken.

"What's she doing in there?" The unfamiliar voice belonged to a new guard on one of his first shifts, who anxiously opened the grille in the door every few minutes to peer into the cell.

"Lookin' for the last of her marbles," replied the older guard sarcastically from the other side of the door. "You should help her."

"Very funny. What _is _she doing?"

"Same thing she does every day." The bored guard didn't bother to turn and look into the cell. "Playing with dirt."

There. Carefully she pinched finger and thumb together and lifted up the precious treasure. Her deadened fingers said that her hand was empty, but her instincts told her otherwise. She could almost feel the glassy surface of the grain caught in her skin. She laid it reverentially on the centre of the floor panel, holding her breath to prevent any stirring of the air that might carry it away from her.

"Dirt?!" The young guard's voice rose to a boyish squeak, betraying his tender years. "I heard she was an earthbender."

"Aye."

"It's dangerous! We need backup." He took a hurried step away from the door, before a meaty hand smacked into his arm.

"Watch," growled the older guard, dropping his hand and turning away. His anxious partner pressed his nose against the iron grille, squinting into the gloom of the cell.

As he watched, the prisoner prodded at something unseen on the floor, first with one finger, then a second and a third, finally pushing her whole hand along the panel. A moment later, she stretched out a leg and almost daintily poked her toe at the iron sheet. Pushing at whatever she thought was there, until frustration rose and she lashed out. The anger died as quickly as it had flared and the prisoner fell to her knees. Her fingers chased between the panels once more, her face returning to its blank look once more, but he had seen that momentary glimpse of fear.

"I... Wha..." Another question rose before he could shape the previous one and he lapsed into silence.

"See. 'Long as there's a wall between you and her, she's harmless." The older guard spat, hitting a fly on the wall and making it drop with an audible splat. His tone was smug. "'Course, go in there without backup and we'll send you home like we sent the guy before you."

"How?"

"In pieces," the guard sneered, and then abruptly sobered at the unpleasant memory. "His arms will heal eventually but he'll never firebend again."

The younger guard deliberately looked into the cell again rather than see the glower on the other guard's face. Now the prisoner crouched on the floor, dragging her fingertip along the edge of a floor panel like a prim housewife checking for dust. He imagined that her hands had once been graceful and precise, but now her movements were clumsy and heavy, trembling with the effort of exerting such fine control.

She had lost the grain of sand in her fit of anger. Now the prisoner crouched on her heels, staring down at the floor without seeing it. In her mind, she saw only the design that her fingers followed on the rough metal. It had begun as a token, an idle amusement to fill the long hours between the changing of the guards, but it had taken on a role of its own. It was her very identity, who she had once been and who she could have been, that she sketched lightly in the dirt. Laboriously she completed the circle and quartered it, making one half slightly larger than the other as she drew the details from memory.

"Ten-hut!" In the corridor, she heard the guards snap to attention at the command. Several heavy sets of footsteps approached; she guessed four guards followed the warden down the corridor. Time for the daily inspection.

"Report." She had not heard the warden walk up to the door, but she could almost feel his disapproving eyes staring through the tiny grille in the door. "The prisoner's got something," the heavily-accented voice interrupted the guard's mumble.

"Looks like that, sir, sometimes. She plays with the dust. Guess it keeps her from going much crazier." The older guard started to snigger and quickly stopped himself. "Sir."

From the long pause, she could imagine the sceptical look on the warden's face.

"Don't just stand there. Bring a broom, immediately."

"Wait, you're not going in there, are you?" The guard was no longer bored and arrogant; he sounded almost as nervous as his rookie partner.

"No, I'm not," replied the warden with cold certainty.

"Get me a broom," the older guard ordered the younger. "I'll get the handlers."

"That won't be necessary," replied the warden. "Fetch that broom _now_, unless you'd rather sweep the cell with your hands."

"Yes sir." The two guards scattered and returned moments later at a run. The warden nodded to his guards as they assembled outside the door.

"Prisoner, on your feet," the warden barked. "Stand against the wall." He watched her straighten up with a cracking of stiff joints and stumble back to the wall, hands groping in the gloom to find it.

"Now don't you move, and this will go nice and easy," added the young guard. The intended threat came out as a tremulous whisper as he unlocked the door and lifted aside the bars.

She heard the door scrape open and she lunged. Her knee met flesh and she chopped at the guard's neck; a body fell heavily at her feet. She followed through with her fists, left fist then right, slamming the guard backwards and into the ground. A high kick and a palm strike to the face, bone crunched beneath her hand, and she felt as much as heard the third guard fall. Already she was pivoting on her heel and kicking out. Her foot slammed into a wall instead of a body and she stumbled. Twin waves of flame washed over her and the intense burst of heat made her dormant nerves scream out.

Heavy bodies slammed into hers and she landed at the bottom of the heap. They wrestled for several minutes but finally she lay pinned. One guard sat on her chest, crushing the breath from her lungs, another on her legs, a third struggling to pin her wrists to the floor. They had brought the manacles with them. She kicked and struggled against the chains, refusing to surrender to the iron's cold grasp. The guards tightened the manacles until they pinched and then hauled her over to the mooring ring. Between their curses and oaths, she heard the quick swishing of the broom over the floor panels and she enjoyed a moment's angry pleasure at the guards' discomfort. Then it was her own discomfort that concerned her as her arms were chained above her head.

"Crazy old kook," spat the older guard as they retreated to the corridor and locked the door again. "Every damn day we go through this. Don't matter how often we sweep out her cell, she still finds some dirt. Put an earthbender in there, sir, he'll get every last speak of dust out of her reach."

"If you can't handle one earthbender in a metal cell, I would dread to see you with two," the warden retorted as the injured guards limped away, making the floor ring with each limping step like a bell announcing the end of a boxing match.

"She'll be broken, sir. Earthbenders are a stubborn bunch," the older guard was recovering his bravado with each word, "but keep 'em away from rocks and they give in pretty easily. I've seen it a thousand times."

"You may be right," replied the warden neutrally. "Meanwhile, leave her chained. She is clearly excitable, let the extra weight calm her. No rations for three days." He marched away down the corridor, leaving one guard angry and the other nervous as they glared at each other across the doorway.

"'As long as there's a wall between you, she's harmless'," the older guard repeated his earlier remark. "Curse that warden, sending us in like that. Did you see? She almost got me."

The younger guard nodded absently as he watched the prisoner tug at the chains, methodically testing the strength of every link. Eventually she blew out an exhausted sigh and sank down onto the floor. Her arms were chained above her head, but as he watched, she flexed her toes and began to trace the same design over the floorboards.

The young guard released a sigh of his own and closed the grille. He would never admit as much to his partner, but he felt lucky to have escaped from the cell uninjured. Perhaps the older guard was right in his refusal to enter the cell unless absolutely necessary.

"If she's that dangerous now, she must have been an amazing earthbender." He realised only too late that he had spoken aloud. His partner stared at him, mouth hanging open.

"You're kidding. Right?" When his younger colleague simply blushed, the guard shook his head in disbelief. "Honestly. They'll let any idiot wear the uniform these days." Ignoring the angry blush on the young guard's face, he continued, "If you'd paid attention before, you'd know that she's no earthbender anymore."

"How is that possible?"

"No, no, no. You don't care about that. Just be damned grateful that she's only got her fists and feet to rely on. But a little fire makes her mind her manners whenever she gets uppity."

"I see." The young guard's eyebrows furrowed as he pondered for a moment. "And sweeping out her cell every day?"

"Like I said, keep an earthbender away from their element long enough and they go soft."

The young guard glanced into the cell once more. The prisoner was slumped on the floor, still tracing her toes across the floor. Chains or no chains, he had seen this whole routine play out during the long hours of his first shifts and knew that there would be no change in the prisoner. At least, no change that he could see.

"You want to make her lose her mind."

The older guard shrugged and leaned against the wall. "We just treat 'em as we treat 'em. If they're too weak to handle it, that's their fault."

The young guard closed the grille and turned away. He knew that he was guarding one of the most dangerous war criminals ever captured by the Fire Nation, and he supposed that he should feel more like the other guards in this place. Like his senior, he should look for any excuse to exorcise his anger upon the prisoners and punish them for their insidious crimes. Yet there were moments when the fog of hatred cleared, and in those moments he only saw a half-starved young woman clad in the blackened rags of a prisoner. At other times he saw something that reminded him of his younger sister when she woke from a bad nightmare, as the prisoner curled into a ball in the corner and gripped her knees to her chest. At those times, he found himself wondering exactly who was holding whom prisoner.

He possessed the freedom of a guard to come and go as he pleased, but every day he had to report to this place of walls and rules and orders that grew harder to follow. Each day he stood outside this cell with nothing but his partner's gruff remarks to break the monotony. Until one day he knew he too would become trapped in this world of despair and stagnant, halted time.

* * *

_**To be continued…**_

Want to see more? Drop me a review and let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

First and foremost: thanks to everyone who read and reviewed chapter one! Hopefully some of your questions are answered here. I also mistranslated "Sine Qua, Nihil Sum" in chapter one (that's what you get for posting late at night.) Its proper translation is "Without which, I am nothing."

Standard disclaimers apply: Avatar is not mine. The characters may be grateful for that fact.

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**Chapter Two**

Perhaps 'village' was too strong a word for what they had, Katara reflected as she paced in the antechamber of the town hall. It had been a simple collection of tents until the arrival of the Earth King's detachment of earthbenders, who quickly erected the infirmary blocks in which they treated their patients and the numerous small houses for those who now lived here. The hall of the elders was one of the largest buildings in the village and stood out from its drab, unpainted fellows with its bright blue and gold paint. Sokka had rushed towards it until she stopped him; he looked askance at her as she turned down a narrow alley and led him between mud brick houses to a small wooden hut on the outskirts of town. It was the only wooden building in the entire village, built from wood salvaged from the houses that had stood here before the Fire Nation invasion, and its owner wielded sufficient authority that the remaining blue paint from the town hall had been applied to its walls and doors.

Whatever disappointment Sokka may have felt at being diverted from the hall of the elders had vanished the moment he entered the little blue hut. Everywhere he looked, he saw something that reminded him of home, and he had passed the hours that they waited examining every inch of the room. Northern Water Tribe tapestries and Southern Water Tribe charcoal paintings adorned the walls while thick animal pelts covered the floor. Matching tapestries hung on either side of the entrance to the audience chamber, one depicting the Northern Water Tribe city and the other showing the small village which he and his sister hailed from.

Burrowing his toes into the deep fur of the pelt on the floor, he leaned in to examine the South Pole tapestry. The weavers had included a small figure on the ice wall whose face bore a familiar design in white and black paint. It even held a tiny machete and boomerang as it posed defiantly. He glanced over at his sister, who smiled and shrugged.

Katara tried not to dampen his enthusiasm by letting slip her own exasperation, but they had spent most of the day stuck in this little waiting room. Perhaps the elders' meeting had overrun, but she wouldn't be surprised if this was Hana's idea of a joke. Sokka hadn't noticed her growing impatience; he was too busy giggling over the little woven warrior in the tapestry.

"I see you are admiring my daughter's handiwork."

Sokka whipped around to greet the newcomer, who wore the dark colours of the Northern Water Tribe. Her silver hair was pulled back into an elaborate pattern of braids but her aquiline face was as fresh and youthful as Katara's. Ice-blue eyes flickered over Sokka in a quick top-to-tail assessment and her mouth twitched slightly. Was that amusement or disappointment that glinted briefly in those piercing eyes?

"Waterbender Katara." The woman greeted Katara with a curt nod and the same outright disdain with which she had addressed Sokka. "I trust you are here for something important. I would hate to think that you would waste my time with another useless petition."

Katara flushed and opened her mouth to fire off a sharp retort. Before she could tell the older woman exactly where to stick her trust, her eyes fell on Sokka. He saw the change in his sister's attitude as she redirected her irritation into an elegant bow and a terse smile.

"Lady Hana. May I present to you a warrior from my tribe and my brother, Sokka. Sokka, this is Lady Hana. She is the leader of the healers and sits on the council of elders."

Hana walked past Sokka to Katara and, staring intently at her face, laid her palms on the younger woman's cheeks. Katara jerked backwards, her face flaming crimson with embarrassment.

"You are rather flushed, Waterbender. Your face is very warm. I suggest that you go home immediately and rest. We cannot afford to lose another healer to heatstroke." Hana's mouth curled into a sneer. "Besides, you have no business here."

The only thing heating Katara's brain and face at that moment was pure rage, Sokka mused. Again he saw her open her mouth to release her anger, and once again she bit back the urge. He could only imagine the arguments that had taken place in this room, away from the distraction of visitors. Katara's eyes blazed with fury as she bowed and stalked through the door, letting it bang behind her.

Hana tutted and turned back to Sokka. "Warrior Sokka?" she asked, her clear alto demanding immediate respect. Sokka found his spine straightening in an automatic response.

"Yes, ma'am!" He would have saluted if he could remember any hand gesture that required more than his middle finger. Instead he settled on a smile.

"You will call me Hana." She pushed open the doors to the main hall and beckoned him inside. To Sokka's surprise, the room was barely any larger than the antechamber and decorated even more intimately. Two chairs draped with skunk bear pelts stood together at one side of the fire pit, one of them occupied by an old man bent almost double with age and sorrow. He peered blearily through the flames and smoke at the newcomers, and Sokka could recognise the early stages of blindness in those milky eyes. His stomach clenched and he averted his eyes from the sight. He didn't want to make the old man feel uncomfortable, after all.

Hana sank gracefully into the other chair and waved Sokka towards a cushion. He flopped down with a grateful sigh until he remembered to pull himself upright and met Hana's unimpressed stare.

"You are indeed your sister's brother."

Aware that he had been insulted but unsure precisely how, Sokka filed it away for future consideration. One thing was clear, however: Hana disliked Sokka only slightly more than she disliked Katara.

"Speaking of your sister, it has been a year since you saw her, hasn't it?" From any other person, it would have been a friendly inquiry, but from Hana it sounded like a challenge. "It must have been a great shock to learn that she was here."

"No more of a shock than it must have been for you to be sent here." The words escaped before Sokka could think about them, and he instantly wished he could reclaim them. The old man beside Hana blinked, his mournful expression changing, then he gave a wheezing chuckle that quickly grew into sniffles of laughter. Hana sat back with folded arms and narrowed her eyes at Sokka. The old man just laughed harder.

_What the heck. Hunt for a fish and catch a penguin._ Sokka didn't see how he could possibly make a worse impression. "Hey, is that sea prune stew I smell?"

"It is." Although he had laughed a second ago, the old man spoke in the hoarse whisper of someone who has only just stopped crying. He leaned forward and lifted the lid of a pot hanging over the fire. Sokka drooled at the pungent smell as the old man filled a bowl and passed it to the warrior. He gulped it down in a single swallow, barely remembering to thank him in a spray of prune pits as Hana looked on angrily.

"Just the way Gran Gran used to make it! I haven't tasted stew this good in years." Sokka nearly wept as the old man took the bowl away from him, then beamed as it was returned again filled to the brim. "These earthbenders are good people, the salt of the earth, quite literally in some cases, but they can't make a good sea prune stew." He gulped down a few swallows and smacked his lips loudly with appreciation. "If I knew how to cook stew, I'd ask you for the recipe."

"It's a pleasure to see someone eat my cooking with such gusto," the old man said, his sad expression crinkling into a smile once more. "Perhaps my wife should show you her secret recipe." He patted Hana's knee again, who smiled gently in return. Then she shot Sokka a look of such venom that he vowed to never raise the subject again.

"We haven't had a messenger from the Earth Kingdom in months." Hana's husband leaned closer to peer at Sokka, his long beard dangling perilously close to the flames. "Tell me, what news is there of the Avatar?"

Sokka tried to ignore the smell of singeing hair as he told them what little he could reveal about the treaties between the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom. The Avatar hadn't had time to even attempt to forge peace between the Fire Nation and the Water Tribe, although the uneasy truce still held. Instead he tried to sound as positive as he could as he described the negotiations between Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom representatives under the watchful gaze of the Avatar. He left out some of the more colourful arguments, the frequent fires and the flying pieces of walls that always accompanied such "friendly" discussion. When Aang had ordered Sokka to visit a tiny wasteland off the western tip of the Fire Nation, Sokka couldn't pack fast enough.

"As you can see, it's a difficult situation, but we're doing our best to come to a resolution as quickly and fairly as possible." Rather than wonder uneasily when he had adopted the line of a politician, Sokka beamed at the old man and held out his bowl. "Please, sir, can I have some more?"

The old man handed the bowl of stew back with another faint smile and Sokka set it by his feet to cool. The look that Hana levelled at him could have frozen it solid.

"Are we to seriously believe that the Avatar sent _you_ out of all the nations?" she demanded.

"Yes. I know it's hard to believe that the Earth King himself couldn't spare the time to come, but you'll have to make do with me." Sokka reached into his jerkin, pulled out a sealed scroll and pressed it into the hand that Hana held out imperiously. As she broke the seal and began to read, he picked up his bowl and lingered over the stew. She finished and handed the scroll to her husband as Sokka helped himself to another bowl of stew to quiet his grumbling stomach. Seeing that her husband would take his time poring over the document, Hana leaned forward and looked into the pot. She spooned the remaining dregs into another bowl and retreated back to her chair, glowering at Sokka as he sat back and loosened his belt a notch.

"Your stew is excellent. Give my compliments to the chef," he announced in a conversational tone. "Which reminds me, speaking of women and those womanly things that they do, what about my sister? You said that she was making petitions of some kind."

The old man opened his mouth to reply but Hana silenced him with a glance.

"You don't need to worry about them." Her tone indicated that the topic was firmly closed. Attempt to reopen at own risk. Sokka prided himself on his ability to recognise subtle hints, and so he fell silent. He'd ask again later.

Hana's husband handed the scroll to her, who made a show of examining the official seal once again, and then dropped the scroll into the fire. She stirred the ashes of the fire, making sure it had burned completely, as her husband looked to her for instructions. Sokka waited patiently for her to look up. She did so, staring silently back. He continued to wait. She continued to stare without blinking. Sokka held her stare for another full minute before he broke.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

_No wonder Katara can't stand this woman_, he thought. _She's the single most annoying person I've ever met!_ He'd take singing nomads and a cave-in over this woman any day; at least they were the regular kind of crazy. _Heck, she's even more stubborn than Toph._ He expected the sudden burst of pain that lanced through his chest but that didn't diminish its force in the slightest. Hana was beside him in an instant.

"What is it?" Her tone was business-like but her hands had a healer's gentle touch as she skimmed her palm over his shoulder. "Your shoulder? Your heart?"

"It's nothing," he choked out past the lump in his throat. At least he could claim that the smoke from the fire was causing his eyes to water. There was no excuse for the faint waver in his voice, however. He recognised the concern in the face of the old man, who had grabbed his walking staff and was halfway out of his seat before Hana turned away from Sokka. A glance passed between them and he settled back down.

"I suppose the soup was too hot for you." She returned to the other side of the fire and eased into her chair once more.

"I hope that was stew, because it certainly wasn't soup." Once again, Sokka's mouth and Sokka's manners weren't on speaking terms. Hana's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as she steepled her hands and stared at Sokka over them. What little warmth she had shown when she examined his shoulder had quickly frozen back into icy disdain.

"Clearly you're a sharp man, Sokka. Let's drop the pleasantries. Why are you really here?"

"Because I'm the best man for the job," Sokka replied sharply. "I am here as the Avatar's personal representative in his absence. This operation was my idea in the first place, and so I will lead and oversee it personally."

Hana gazed at him for a long moment, coldly assessing him. Sokka squirmed slightly under the force of that razor-sharp gaze.

"I see. The Avatar does not believe we are making sufficient progress."

"On the contrary." He attempted a smile and felt his face begin to creak. Perhaps it was time to try that 'tact' Katara had told him so much about. "Aang is very impressed with what you have managed. But he's aware that there are more people who need our help and he is anxious to do so in order to further goodwill between the nations." Sokka pulled another piece of parchment from his shirt and unrolled it on the floor. Hana failed to suppress a snigger at the sketches adorning the sheet. Sokka glared at her and only succeeded in making her snort with laughter.

"Hey! According to my calculations and the reports I managed to piece together, the facility is twelve kilometres away." Sokka pointed at a blob that Hana had dismissed as an ink stain; now she realised it was a mark on a map. She re-evaluated the warrior as he described the initial steps of his plan. She had regarded the parchment as an example of lousy penmanship, but perhaps it was a stroke of genius. No one looking at the scribbles and doodles would believe it was a master plan agreed with the Avatar.

"The prison is unlisted in the Fire Nation records," he was saying. "In fact, the only people who knew of its existence were there physically. It was a top-secret installation even within the Fire Nation."

"Hence the 'secret' part," Hana told him in a stage whisper. "According to your estimates, over four hundred prisoners were incarcerated there during the war alone. Assuming a pattern similar to other prisons, there may be as many as two hundred guards."

"Where do you get that idea from?"

"From these numbers, between the blob with an arrow on it and a scarecrow holding a wafer." Hana pointed them out. Sokka looked at the sketches of Appa and Suki and felt himself colour.

"That's a sky bison and that's a Kyoshi warrior!" he snapped.

"Looks like a smiling potato and a biscuit in a dress," Hana retorted.

"_Anyway_," Sokka continued loudly. . "Your reports say that you first learned of the prison's existence from a couple of escaped prisoners?"

"Actually, that's not quite true…" Hana's husband tugged at his beard sheepishly. "We did pick up a prisoner that had managed to escape, in his own words, but a guard must have been involved. Our scouts are holding a perimeter half a kilometre away to observe and pick up any walkers."

"But?" Sokka prompted. There was always a 'but' and he rarely liked what followed it.

"We mean _any_ walkers," the old man continued, looking apologetically at Hana, who refused to look at either man. "From the first day we arrived here, we've found islanders and villagers that needed our help. The Fire Nation annihilated most of the island's population but they kept a few of the outlying villages to act as supply stations. They bartered the villages' ongoing survival in return for supplies." His voice trembled with poorly concealed bitterness. "We've been here for a year and we only heard about the prison's existence six months ago. We've been too busy treating the islanders to do any more about the prison itself."

"What? Why wasn't this in your reports?" The old man mumbled something and Sokka leapt to his feet as his composure vanished. "What do you mean, you didn't think it was important?! This changes everything!" He rubbed at his face in despair. "You only tell me _now_ that there are islanders wandering around in the middle of all this? Your reports don't mention that the prison is still heavily guarded. Even getting the Fire Nation to admit its very existence required six months stuck in a very small room full of bickering politicians and you just threw the evidence of that on the fire!"

"Oh, stop whining." Hana glared at him through the fire smoke. "You're worse than your sister. Now sit down and listen."

Sokka found himself sitting on the cushion with no recollection of how he got there.

"Frankly, the timing is optimal," Hana continued. The sand-barges will depart tomorrow morning and they can convey our recovered patients to the harbour. Our storerooms and warehouses are fully restocked, so we can handle another large intake of patients."

Sokka gazed at a tapestry behind her without seeing its rich swirls of white, cyan and navy describing the ocean during the four seasons. He saw only the individual threads as he quickly disassembled his plans in his mind. Aang's original plan was simple, but unlikely to succeed: while Sokka approved of sending a messenger carrying official decommission papers from the Avatar himself, he doubted that the warden would simply surrender his post. Thus Sokka had made arrangements with Zuko for military backup to set out after the advance party's departure.

As much as he despised the notion of working in close quarters with Fire Nation soldiers, unable to escape the lingering suspicion that he could be working with the very people that had carried out raids against his village and unable to escape the memories that the sight of Zuko's scarred face stirred in him, Sokka knew that he needed their help. His hours spent in council with Zuko had already taught him the art of working with his enemies towards a common goal.

The young Fire Lord was anxious to make reparations with the victims of his father's cruelty. Sokka was anxious to free the prisoners from the unnamed facility. Zuko had taken one look at the list of people believed to be incarcerated inside and volunteered whatever assistance Sokka needed; in recognition of Sokka's unease around Fire Nation soldiers, he had placed the most trusted members of his elite guard under Sokka's direct command. Sokka and two of his men would act as the Avatar's envoy, carrying the official papers requesting the immediate decommission of the prison, and Zuko's men would arrive three days later to assist Sokka however they could. While both men had expressed their hopes that Zuko's men would only be needed for peaceful duties, neither of them had voiced their darker suspicions.

Sokka was already altering his plans to incorporate the latest information. No matter how he considered each move, rearranging the pieces like a chess grandmaster projecting his strategies onto a board within his mind, he arrived at the same conclusion. It had to be the right one: it was the only one he could think of.

"All right." He released a slow, calming sigh. "Now this may not go to plan…"

"Now there's a vote of confidence from the operation leader." Hana snorted. "And here I thought you were the positive one."

"I predict the doom and gloom whenever Katara's too busy," Sokka threw back. Fresh intelligence would be critical, and the sooner he started, the better prepared the entire taskforce would be. If he left within the hour, he could reach the prison under the cover of darkness and send in the messenger at dawn. Perhaps his men could even infiltrate the prison and create plans of the compound's interior. Sokka felt a fresh surge of enthusiasm as the new pieces of his plan fell neatly into place.

"I want to see the prison for myself. Hana, I'll need a scout to show me the way. My men and I will leave in the hour, so do me a favour. Say goodbye to Katara for me." As much as he hated to slip away without saying goodbye in person, he couldn't afford to let anything, even his sister, distract him from his new sense of purpose.

"Of course. I will speak to her myself." Hana's words sounded almost like a promise.

"You realise that we'll have to involve her sooner or later." Sokka returned his stare to the tapestry as he continued planning. "The timing is essential. The full moon is in a week, and I'll need all of your waterbenders at full strength."

"Very well." Hana nodded. "Meanwhile, we'll give you until dawn. If we don't hear from you before then, scouts will be sent to find you. Make sure you are well-armed. The prison guards will not appreciate interference. They may not even bow to the Avatar's commands."

"Thank you." Sokka stood and clasped her arm in a warrior's farewell, startled by the strength of her grip.

"Good hunting." She pushed him away, sending him stumbling back through the door. It was a shame, she thought to herself. He seemed like an earnest young man, if a little too naïve to be undertaking such an operation. She would send out her men at dawn, but as she caught the eyes of her husband, she saw her own concern reflected there. Neither of them held high hopes of seeing the warrior again. She could only hope that he wouldn't lead her own men to their deaths as well.

* * *

_Entire walls separate the civilised from the barbarians, the barbarians from the animals. But it is a single thread. A touch here, a push there, and you turn a man into a savage._ The young guard reread the words painted on the parchment and let it roll back up again. Perhaps it involved a solid punch rather than a touch and a week of starvation rather than a push, but he saw the truth of those words around him every day. Some of the prisoners held inside the cells were thugs and barbarians but even they did not deserve to be driven to the brink of madness. The lucky ones were those who fell over it.

"Hey, young 'un, on your feet."

"I do have a name, you know," he admonished his partner as he approached. The older guard stopped and scratched at a scar on his chin with a rasp of stubble.

"Hmm, I guess you've worked here long enough to deserve a name. All right, what is it?"

"For the thousandth time, it's Howin!" Not the polite greeting that his mother had taught him to use, but he had long ago lost patience with formally introducing himself to his partner. The other man had no manners anyway.

"Howin, eh? That's a pretty name. Girl's name if you ask me, but I guess your mama wanted a daughter." He either ignored or didn't notice his partner's insulted look as he continued, "Name's Shu. Looks like we're gonna be stuck working together for a while."

"Which brings me never-ending happiness," Howin muttered sarcastically as he scrambled to his feet and tucked the roll of parchment behind his breastplate. Shu saw the gesture and grinned knowingly.

"Them girls in the city write some nice letters, don't they? I bet you didn't even have to pay her for the privilege neither."

_Men, barbarians and animals_. Howin knew exactly which one he was looking at as he stared his partner down, and he was surprised by the rush of anger he felt. Resisting the urge to snap at the senior guard, he noticed the covered tray that the other man held.

"What's that?"

"A picnic for two." Shu rolled his eyes. "What does it look like? It's time to feed the animal. But first..." He lifted the cloth cover, releasing a waft of mould and stale bread, and spat into the bowl of gruel. "There we go."

Howin held out his hands for the keys to open the cell. Instead the tray was thrust into his hands. Shu grinned toothily at him as he untied the keys from his belt. The brief relief that Howin had felt quickly vanished and fear took its place.

"You made so much noise these past few days about the prisoner not getting fed, so go feed the prisoner. Oh, don't worry," Shu added, seeing his younger partner pale, "we're not unchaining her just yet. Warden's orders. Just walk in, put the tray down, and walk out again. It's that simple."

Howin recalled how many times he had been given an assignment accompanied by the fateful words "It's that simple." Strangely enough, none of them had been, and he had the bruises to show for it. He hated the thought of showing cowardice before the older guard even more than the idea of facing the prisoner, however, and she _was_ still chained up. Swallowing his trepidation, he nodded to Shu, who quickly unlocked the door and pushed it open, carefully keeping the door between him and the contents of the cell.

The young guard crept into the cell and jumped as the door crashed shut behind him. The bolts slammed home, as per the standard procedure, but Howin still felt trapped. The face grinning through the tiny grille didn't improve his confidence. He turned his back firmly on Shu's leer and searched the darkness for any sign of the prisoner. He could _feel_ her presence as keenly as a squirrel-mouse that wanders into a moose-lion's den can feel those unseen eyes watching, waiting, and biding their time.

There. Chains clinked slightly and he could pick out the shape of a bowed head as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Carefully he knelt before her and lowered the tray to the ground. She turned her head towards him but made no other move. Now he could see the weary slump in her shoulders and arms, held up only by the chains. He pushed the tray closer, took a shuffling step on his knees and pushed it a little closer. No response. Braver now, he stood up and leaned over to the mooring ring in the wall. He just needed to undo a lock and release the coiled lengths of chain, and the prisoner would have enough freedom to eat. He slipped the key into the lock and heard a rustle of movement.

A pair of feet slammed into his gut and he found himself launched through the air. The entire cell shook as the wall kindly broke his fall. Howin slumped down to the floor with a moan. Something large shot by his head and shattered against the wall, raining shards of pottery and gruel down on him. The door flew open, and a burst of fire exploded through the cell. Howin automatically deflected it and drove it back towards its source. One hand grabbed his collar, the other blasted another handful of fire at the prisoner as Shu grabbed him and pulled him out of the cell. The door slammed as the bolts and locks were thrown home. Howin lay in a daze, staring up at his partner in amazement.

"That bitch can lick her dinner off the floor!" snarled the older guard, pounding his fist against the door. "Don't make me come in there or you'll regret the day you were born!"

The only response was a jangle of chains and the screech of screws tearing free of the wall. Shu opened the grille and fired a dozen balls of fire into the cell. All noise abruptly ceased. Swearing and muttering to himself, Shu crouched by his partner.

"You all right there?" he asked. "Honestly, I thought you knew better than to get near that 'un. She's crazier than a caged wolf-bat."

"The chains..." Howin tried to push himself upright and groaned at the explosions that set off in his stomach.

"Never you mind that. She's not going anywhere. I'll take a couple of handlers in with me later."

"Handlers." He frowned through the pain. "You're going to report this?"

"Damn right I am. That little hellion will be lucky if she can move ever again when I'm through with her." The older guard stood up and clapped his hands together. He drew them apart and a flame baton appeared between his palms. "You stay here."

"Wait!" Howin swore and fell back against the floor, gasping for breath. The pain was spreading from his stomach to his lungs and every breath wrapped his chest in burning iron bands. "Don't... don't report..." He felt the sweat trickle down the side of his face as he forced out the words. "Don't report her. Don't want... other guards... knowing. They'll never... shut up abou... about it."

"Are you sure?" At his partner's nod, Shu let the flame baton burn out. He snorted angrily and wisps of smoke curled out of his nose. "Fine." More smoke leaked from his nostrils. "But she so much as looks at you the wrong way, and I won't stop. Then I'll tell the warden to put handlers on this cell day in, day out. We'll show that troublemaker who's boss."

"Thanks." Howin pulled himself slowly to his feet and looked at his partner. "Get me some bandages from the infirmary. I think she broke a couple of ribs." Seeing the older guard open his mouth to speak, he interrupted, "I'll be fine. Just need to tape them up."

Two hours later, Howin propped himself against the wall and continued to stare through the grille in the door. Shu had gone to find some food for the two of them, leaving him alone with the prisoner. For two full hours she had sat in the corner, silent and unmoving, until he had begun to fear the worst. Now he could hear her ragged breathing and even the growling of her stomach in the quiet cell. An overturned bowl lay by her feet, its contents spilled when she had kicked the tray at Howin's head, but she ignored it for two solid hours.

_She must know that it's there_. If she couldn't see it in the gloom, she could surely smell the musty odour of stale bread. Her stomach certainly seemed to think there was food nearby. He debated going inside and moving the bowl closer until he sighed and felt his ribs twinge sharply.

The prisoner's head lifted and he heard her sniff, once, twice. At last she reached out a hand, gasping as her fingers smashed into the floor. She slowly dragged her hands across the floor, a single whimper of pain escaping her as she struggled to move her leaden arms. A manacle snagged against the bowl with a clink and pushed it further away each time she tried to reach for it. She would never be able to get the bread, she would only be able to smell it and know that it lay just beyond her reach.

For some reason, that thought saddened him immensely. He couldn't bear to watch any longer. He simply turned away and slid the grille closed once more. There were men and barbarians and animals here, but he no longer recognised himself in any of those guises.

* * *

A/N: The more Sokka and Hana taunt each other, the more they remind me of people I know... Howin's parchment is based on a quote by John Buchan, which reads: "You think that a wall as solid as the earth separates civilization from barbarism. I tell you the division is a thread, a sheet of glass. A touch here, a push there, and you bring back the reign of Saturn."

Chapter three is on its way!


	3. Chapter 3

I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's taken the time to read and review! I love hearing your opinions and responses. I originally wanted to submit chapters three and four together, but I'm having a bit of a block with chapter four... so here's chapter three to read in the meantime. I debated whether to even submit it, but if I was looking to tell a comfortable or happy story, I wouldn't be telling this one. Chapter four on its way!

This chapter came out quite dark, hence the rating, but that's what you can expect from a Fire Nation prison.

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar, DiMartino and Konietzko have that privilege, and I'm not making any profit from this. I'm just telling stories.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Once upon a time, the warden had promised Shu a special assignment and all the excitement, thrills and prestige that entailed. In reality, it involved long hours spent guarding a corridor of eight cells, whose dwindling population required little over-seeing. There had been nothing to do but talk to his partner, and Shu's first partner had been a sharp-witted and sarcastic brute of a man who had taught him how to command fear and respect from the prisoners. They had whiled away years of their life on this detail, until that fateful day when they decided to have a little fun taunting the last prisoner on their watch. When the alarm bells had stopped ringing and the smoke cleared, his partner was lying unresponsive in a pool of blood and Shu had several new scars. Shu had called for the prisoner's immediate execution, but the warden had rubbed salt in his wounds by partnering him with a kid barely out of the firebending academy.

That same kid had babbled some excuse that morning at Shu before bolting off. Trust the rookie to dash off to some girl in one of the villages and leave Shu with no one to talk to. When Shu had raised this complaint to him, Howin had suggested that he could talk to the prisoner instead.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Shu slouched against the door and pushed open the grille with a finger. "Someone to talk to after all this time."

The prisoner sat in the corner of the cell, her head hanging almost into her lap, her body held up only by the short chains that tethered her arms to the wall. The chains and manacles had become a permanent feature since she had broken Howin's ribs several months ago. Once his ribs had healed, however, Howin had taken to bribing the handlers into replacing her restraints with the long running chains that gave her the freedom to stand and walk around the cell for a few hours each time.

"Of course, that's assuming you can hear me." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Doesn't matter if I whisper, or," he raised his voice, "if I shout in your bloody ear! You can't hear me, can you?"

The prisoner didn't move, but he could hear her breathing and knew that she still hadn't had the courtesy to give up and die. He punched a handful of fire into the cell to vent some of his irritation.

"The guards downstairs have a betting pool going. The popular theory is that you're deaf, but they're also offering odds that you're blind or mute. Me, I think you're all three and stupid to boot. But Howin, he reckons you can see and hear as well as the rest of us. Kid's delusional, if you ask me." He scratched at one of the many scars on his face and scowled at the woman who had given them to him.

"I don't deny you're a canny one. As soon as you arrive at the Boiling Rock, a dozen riots kick off among the earthbenders? The place nearly burned down before the army intervened." It didn't take a man of Shu's genius to see the connection. "But you didn't think they'd transfer you here, did you?" He sneered at her through the safety of the cell door. "Big mistake."

The prisoner yawned and slumped back against the wall, her head banging against the metal wall and making it ring. There was no wince or curse. In the years since her transfer from the Boiling Rock, the prison guards had observed that she had never spoken a word. She did, however, make sounds: it had made Shu's day when he first heard her scream. He had had a whole succession of good days, Shu realised.

Until the warden had come over soft and ordered the guards to stop interrogating the prisoner, saying that she would not break. To Shu's indignation, he didn't even have the decency to execute the woman. No, instead the warden commanded his personal guards to take her to his quarters that night. The thought still made Shu bitter; he had known in his gut that another week of interrogation would make the prisoner sing every secret she held.

This time he didn't direct the flame at her body but at the chains holding her wrists and ankles, waiting until the metal began to glow with a dull heat. She let out a hiss of surprise and shifted uneasily, and he knew that he had her attention at last.

"You had a lucky escape," he spat. "Just when we were getting to know each other. The warden's just as soft as Howin sometimes. Maybe he can come down here and give you a pet name too."

What ridiculous name had Howin come up with for the prisoner? Shu scratched at his scars again as he cast his mind back. The young guard had declared firmly that, since the prisoner's name had been forgotten long ago, he would give her a name. In the end, he had named her after his sparrowkeet. As much as Shu disapproved of giving the prisoner a name, he couldn't argue with the insult of naming someone after a pet bird.

"My dear little Fei." He whispered the words as tenderly as a man addressing his lover by moonlight. The prisoner's head snapped up and although greasy tangles of hair covered her face, he could practically feel those eyes narrow into hateful slits.

"So you _can _hear," he jeered. "Then prick up them lil' ears and listen. Seems my partner's gone and got a sweet spot for you. Just think... he'd give you a Fire Nation baby, given half a chance. And they say romance is dead. You'd have something to keep you company in those long dark nights." He smirked at the thought. "You could teach it to scream in those beautiful, soprano tones you reached when you got here."

The chains began to clink softly. The prisoner's every muscle was taut, her entire frame shaking with the force of her anger. Shu chalked up a point to himself and let the little victory spur him on. Howin was right, he decided, he _should_ talk to the prisoner more often.

"But that was a long time ago. Aren't you glad that the warden took such a... _personal _interest in you? A whole week of entertaining him in his room before he got bored and threw you back in here. Surprised me. I figured you'd only last two days before you hanged yourself with a bedsheet. It's always the quiet ones, you know. But no, you just had to hang on." Shu knew what had gone on in that room, however. The warden had looked at the prisoner and, recognising the girl shivering beneath the weight of her chains, had espoused a gentle, almost paternal approach to try and win her over. The prisoner had not magically changed allegiances because of a soft bed and a few hot meals, and Shu had gloried in each of the warden's successive failures. Until the prisoner had been sent back to her cell, and Shu's dull assignment continued.

Tired of peering into the gloom, he summoned a ball of flame and threw it into the cell, bouncing it off the wall with lazy flicks of his wrist, missing her face by inches. He saw her bite her lip, hard, and added a second point to his tally as the dark line of blood ran down her chin.

"I hope that leaves a scar," he told her venomously. "I promised you, didn't I? For every scar you gave me, I'll give you ten."

The prisoner lifted her head slowly and beneath the ragged black hair, he saw her lips pull back into a cocky sneer.

"It's such a shame you can't count."

Shu barely even realised that that hoarse, cracked whisper had come from the prisoner. He only heard the words, and saw red. The keys left his belt and suddenly the door stood wide open before him. He so rarely got to use his firebending for anything beside drilling, and he exulted in the flames that rushed from his feet and fists as he stormed into the cell. He was safe behind his own flame-shield as the walls and ceilings began to glow faintly, the heat of his fire-bending bleeding into the metal cell. The prisoner was less fortunate. Through the curling smoke he could see her writhing in her chains, leaping and hopping gracelessly as she tried to keep her bare skin out of contact with the red-hot metal.

He grabbed her and threw her to her knees, putting an end to her obscene dance. It was like watching another man move as his fist slammed into her face and she fell. A black-gloved hand caught her and pulled her upright, then his other fist smashed into her cheek and drove her to the floor. Blood spattered onto the iron panels and crimson smoke rose with a hiss. He didn't hear the prisoner cry out at last or register the blows that he rained down on her. He knew only the overwhelming hatred surging within him and the fury of the animal that bayed for blood.

* * *

Howin turned onto the corridor and his cheerful whistling stopped on his lips. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something was very, very wrong. The cell door stood open, thin wisps of smoke curling out from the darkness, and he could see no sign of Shu. Running back onto the main wing, he spotted two guards approaching and yelled at them to help before sprinting back to the cell. A series of bangs echoed from the cell, and a low voice spitting curses, and a woman's cry of pain.

Howin ran into the darkness and immediately smoke filled his eyes. An angry wave of his arm dispelled the thick smoke and the shadows that moved within it. It took him a moment to register what he was seeing, but the sickening lurch of his stomach told him that this was real.

"Shu! What are you doing?" He ran forward to grab the guard's arm. Shu ripped his arm free and charged into Howin, sending the younger guard stumbling. He crashed into the wall, throwing out his palms to break his fall, and swore at the heat that singed his palms.

Howin stepped forward into his first stance but Shu appeared not to have noticed his arrival. The prisoner had slumped onto her knees and Shu reared up over her, his leg sweeping down in a graceful kick. His heel slammed into the prisoner's shoulder blades with a crack of bone breaking. Fei slammed into the floor hard enough to bounce twice. Metal screeched as the chains' mooring rings tore free of the wall and the iron links crashed down on her body.

"Stand down, guard!" Howin barked, wondering where the hell his backup was. As Fei attempted to push herself up to her knees and Shu kicked her back down in a rush of flame, he knew that his choice had been made for him. Shu fully intended to kill the prisoner.

"Shu!" He roared a final warning. "Stop it!"

He launched the largest ball of flame he could create towards them and, hearing twin howls of pain, leapt after it. Shu stumbled backwards and turned towards his new opponent. Howin mentally thanked his instructor for every hour spent training his body to move from one stance to the next, forcing out hotter and brighter flames with every step that drove Shu backwards. The older guard caught his heel and stumbled, and Howin threw out the long arcs of fire that the handlers used. A single gesture tightened the flame cuffs around Shu's wrists, another dragged him off-balance. The man fell at last and lay struggling, unable to undo his partner's more powerful bending. Howin stepped over him and turned to Fei.

His ears rang with the force of her punch. Howin rolled and landed on his feet, narrowly avoiding the kick that Fei levelled at his head. He seized her ankle and crushed the burned flesh beneath his fingers. A quick throw to the floor as he struck out at her halfheartedly, glancing off a rib. She landed on her hands, spun, swiped his legs out with a low kick. Howin crashed into the ground, grabbing at her as he fell. Fei wrenched free and pirouetted on her heel, her foot slamming into his neck. The young guard toppled head over tail with a shout.

Fei sprang after him with a wild snarl, leaping into the air and driving her elbow into his stomach. Howin's breath left him in a rush and he doubled over with agony. His hands moved of their own accord. As she dived in for another strike, he flung a wide spray of fire into her face. He heard a high-pitched yelp and Fei rolled away. She contorted and writhed as she fought to escape the flames spreading to her clothes and the searing heat of the floor. Howin scrambled to his feet and immediately dispelled the flames, but the damage was done.

Fei scuttled backwards until she hit the wall and scrambled along its length until she wedged herself in the corner. She curled up instinctively and pressed reddened hands to her eyes. Howin heard her gasp in pain.

Howin rushed towards her but the sight of Fei recoiling in fright stopped him cold. He whirled around and saw the two guards standing in the doorway. One of them held an unconscious Shu by the scruff of his neck, the flame cuffs now burning around his entire body.

"Don't just stand there," Howin barked at the other guard. "Help me with her!"

The second guard hurried into the cell but he didn't seem very anxious to get close to Fei. At his approach, however, she curled into a tighter ball. Her once-pale skin was livid with red burns and wounds that seeped dark blood. Howin felt another wave of nausea rise in his stomach and ruthlessly pushed it down. There would be time for his own turmoil after he had helped Fei.

"Fei. I know you can hear me." He dropped to his knees and, glaring a warning up at the other guard to keep his mouth shut, pulled off his helmet. He brushed his sweat-streaked hair back from his face as he lowered his voice to a soothing murmur. "Look at me. I want to help you. I can get you out of this cell, and treat your injuries. The sooner, the better."

He laid a cautious hand on her shoulder and she swatted it aside with enough force to knock him off-balance. Howin looked up at the other guard as he stood up again. Bright blue eyes met Howin's through the narrow slits of the guard's visor, and the man nodded.

One grabbed her wrists, the other her ankles, and she cried out at the new agony in her limbs. Howin could feel the heat of the chains even through his gloves as they rushed across the cell, and he pushed aside another rush of sympathy for Fei. They set her down as gently as they could on the cool iron floor of the corridor. She lay gasping for air, the occasional twitch of a hand or foot the most movement that she could manage.

At Howin's nod, the other guard opened another cell-door on the corridor and Howin lifted Fei to her feet. She immediately stumbled and he half-carried, half-dragged her into the cell. She slid onto the floor and lay unmoving. As the other guard watched in silence, Howin returned to the guard's station and rummaged in the emergency kit for the burn-lotion and some clean rags. He left those beside the prisoner and slammed the door shut behind him with the force of his frustration, locking it before he could allow his sympathy to get the better of him.

"Sir, what shall we do with him?" The guard nodded towards Shu, whose neck his partner still clutched in his hand. Howin imagined those fingers tightening around the older guard's throat until the knuckles strained against the skin... He banished the dark thoughts with a shake of his head.

"Turn him in to the warden for all I care. Just get him out of my sight." Howin wanted a moment alone to take a few deep breaths, settle his nerves and figure out what the hell had just happened.

"Yes sir." One of the guards saluted as he turned to go, then looked back. "Should I bring the doctor?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You know that the doctor only treats the guards." Howin rubbed wearily at his face, leaving smudges of soot on his bruised cheek. The guards saluted again and dragged Shu away. Howin hoped that their paths would not cross again for a long time, if they ever happened to meet.

Howin limped over to the cell door and leaned on it as his entire body began to throb. The metal cooled the heat in his armour and he breathed a sigh of relief. After a moment, he found the strength to slide open the grille and look into the cell. To his concern, Fei lay where they had dropped her. He could hear her stuttered gasps for air and the almost inaudible groans whenever she drew too deep a breath.

His stomach lurched again violently and he resisted the impulse to throw up. Instead he let himself slide down the door to the floor and tucked his head between his knees. He indulged himself in a groan of his own. He wanted nothing more than to go into the cell and do something, anything, to help the prisoner, but he also knew better than to expect Fei's trust.

In his mind, he saw her looming over him once again, saw his own hand fling fire into her face, heard that awful shriek as she fell back blinded. He was just as monstrous as Shu or the handlers in the prisoner's eyes, and he was no better than them in his own eyes.

He allowed himself another groan and slumped back against the door, utterly exhausted. Shu was gone. Howin was alone with his injuries and a wounded prisoner. He should get up and call for backup. He should file a report with the warden. But Howin knew that he would do neither of those things and he now understood the reason why.

"I won't leave you alone again," he vowed loudly enough for the prisoner to hear. He had failed her once, by leaving her with a man who lived and breathed hatred, but he would never such a mistake again. He would protect her, simply because no one else would.

"I won't let them hurt you any more, Fei."

* * *

_**To be continued...**_


	4. Chapter 4

Four rewrites, two crashes and writer's block later, here it is. The completed and massive chapter four. It includes everything I chopped out of chapter three, which was a bit short. I altered the genre because I think there's more angst than romance at the moment, but that'll probably (hopefully?) change back in future chapters. Anway, hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: no matter how nicely I ask, they still won't let me keep the characters for myself.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Each evening, the western sky turned to flame and night began to spread its veil in the east. The heat of day dissipated rapidly at sunset and the chill of nightfall drove the villagers indoors to banked hearths and warm beds. To the men darting from the shadows of one building to the next, that same coldness was a blessing. Only the moon and the stars above saw their hurried dash to the small blue hut that stood on the outskirts of the village.

Sokka stepped onto the porch and rapped on the door twice. Behind him, muffled curses rose as the men jostled each other. One scathing look from their leader, however, and they fell silent. The door opened, and Sokka waved them through ahead of him. He quickly bolted the door behind them and turned around. Hana looked at him from the doorway of the audience chamber and raised a steely eyebrow. If she was taken aback by the three men in Fire Nation prison uniforms standing in her home, she didn't show it.

"And the meaning of this late night visit is--?" Hana glanced at the barely conscious man that Sokka's men held between them. "I don't have enough stew for one of you, much less four." She took in the bound and gagged man, who wore a prisoner's rags stained with blood and soot. The healer assessed his injuries in a glance but a heavy on her shoulder stopped her from stepping forward for a closer look. She simply looked at Sokka for an explanation as he pulled off his helmet.

"I saw three of you leave this village."

"We brought back a bonus," Sokka answered flatly as a grim frown tugged at his mouth. Hana had seen that hollow look in his eyes many times before, and she knew that this was not the same man that had taunted her in front of her husband. Something had changed during his three days at the prison. Rather than ask questions, however, she gestured curtly for the guards to take the prisoner into the audience chamber.

Hana's husband looked up from tending the fire and Sokka saw the transformation from a broken old man to a leader. He pulled himself upright as his face shed its sorrow and became stern. He glared at the prisoner with a ferocity that Sokka had not imagined him capable of, and the hatred in his eyes was mirrored in his wife's scowl as she took her seat. The other chair in the room was occupied by a mountain of a man dressed in the deep green and gold colours of the Earth Kingdom. Another elder, Sokka realised, spying the familiar logo on the man's shoulder; the earthbender elder's logo was sewn in dark blue whereas the Water Tribe elders' logo was stitched in bright gold thread, reflecting the temporary alliance that ruled this village.

"I had heard from the scouts that you were returning, Sokka. They didn't mention the addition to your group." The deep, soothing tones of the earthbender's voice carried the slight burr that Sokka associated with the southern Earth Kingdom. The elder ran a massive hand over his chin, smoothing his silver beard down onto his broad barrel chest. "Explain."

Sokka glanced to Hana first for confirmation: was it safe to speak in front of this man? At her nod, he bowed to the elder and avoided looking at the prisoner as he spoke. He couldn't afford to let his own distress show in his voice if he wanted to persuade these people to his plans.

"Sir. This _gentleman _is a former employee of Ozai's prison service." Sokka's tone dripped contempt. "He is a firebender from the maximum security wing of the prison. We interrupted him as he attempted to beat a prisoner to death." The words sounded so clinical and precise, giving no suggestion of the fury and despair that Sokka had felt in that cell, but the distance was exactly what he needed. He heard the prisoner cry out once more, that inhuman note of terror and agony echoing once more in his memory, and his fist clenched by his side. Fortunately Hana interrupted his unhappy thoughts.

"When did you capture him?"

"This evening." Sokka was grateful for something external to focus on. "After your scouts had returned to you."

"Very well. If the council have no objections," she glanced at the earthbender elder, "my husband and I will take responsibility for the prisoner. He is injured, and I may be able to heal him. Who knows, he may even feel inclined to answer some questions." She smiled. It was all teeth and deadly intent, Sokka realised, like the grinning teeth of an eel shark hurtling through the water towards a hapless swimmer, ready to deliver a lethal bite. He felt absolutely no remorse about turning the injured prisoner over to Hana and her husband, and the only surprise was how little his apathy surprised him. He was still reeling from the scenes that he had witnessed in the prison and he was not above seeing a few punitive measures taken against the guilty. Part of him longed to punish the prisoner by his own hand for every wrongdoing he had seen committed at the prison.

_That place has changed you,_ a little voice told him. _Do you want to fall into that darkness forever?_

Sokka silenced the voice by reminding himself that the prisoner had been turned over the village council and was no longer his concern. He didn't need to waste another thought on the excuse for a man.

"Warrior." The earthbender pulled himself to his feet, muscles rippling and shifting like boulders rolling down a hillside. Despite his age, he was easily one of the most powerfully built men Sokka had ever laid eyes on. He felt a sudden rush of hope: with men like this bender in their ranks, maybe his plan wasn't so far-fetched after all. "Come with me."

The earthbender led him outside and away from the village, until they reached an open space of land. Sokka looked around for trees, weeds, rocks, anything that would distinguish this place. There was nothing but acres of dusty, cracked earth. The earthbender stamped his foot twice and a large crevasse opened. Steps led down into the darkness and the earthbender waved Sokka on ahead.

"What, no handrail?" Sokka asked nervously. The earthbender clearly had Hana's sense of humour as he gazed blankly back. Sokka blew out a sigh and groped his way down the steps, feeling out each step carefully as he tried to ignore the man's impatient sighs behind him. At last his feet touched a level floor and he found himself in a rough tunnel. No, it was a chamber, he realised as shutters were lifted from unseen lanterns and light crept into the room.

A dozen people sat in a loose circle, each with a lantern at their feet or balanced on their chair. Whether it was intentional or not, he could only pick out the vaguest outlines of faces through the gloom and a slight suggestion of colours, dark blue and white, green and gold. Nightmarish shadows danced about the walls, the floor, the ceiling, with each movement, and Sokka felt a chill slide down his spine. He had not enjoyed any of his few experiences underground and the demons playing in the corners of his eyes wouldn't make this one any better.

_What is it with earthbenders and dark underground caverns? _he asked himself. _Are some of these guys former Dai Li agents?_

"Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe." Although Sokka had taken comfort in his own distant formality while standing in the safety of Hana's house, now he found that cool, even tone issuing from the shadows a little unnerving. "Hana has already informed us of your mission. You are the advance party of a collaborative force of the nations created in response to reports of a functioning Fire Nation prison to the north. Rather than report to us upon arrival, you instead to travel to the prison in order to collect, ah, _intelligence_." The voice had travelled from disinterested to faintly mocking. Sokka bit his lip to restrain his sarcastic response; sassing the council would not endear them to his cause, and he was here to petition for their support.

"When you did not return by morning," continued that emotionless voice, "Hana sent her scouts. They did not speak to you personally for the following days."

"I reached the prison with two guards before dawn and we waited until the sun had risen to approach the prison," Sokka explained. "The Avatar's message was delivered to the warden, but his response was negatory."

"Negatory?" Another anonymous voice, female this time, spoke.

"The warden refuses to acknowledge the authority of either Avatar Aang or Fire Lord Zuko. He openly pledges allegiance to the true heirs of Sozin and, in his own words, he will continue to protect the Fire Nation from their enemies, until the throne is restored to its rightful owner. There was no way to persuade him otherwise."

"Did you resort to violence?"

"Appealing, but no." As tempting as the idea had been when he listened to the warden's misguided display of patriotism, Sokka had reminded himself not to blow his cover and hoped that his men would share his discretion. Fortunately they had. "The messenger returned to our camp to wait for the scouts while my guard and I remained in the prison. We were able to explore most of the prison, barring the high and maximum security wings."

"And your findings?" That bored voice carried an unspoken message: _tell us why we should spare our people to help you._

Sokka borrowed a lantern from the nearest elder and, crouching in the centre of the unmarked circle, began sketching in the dirt. A ripple shuddered through the floor and the entire circle turned to soft sand. Sokka flashed a grateful smile towards whoever had done that and proceeded to draw out his plans. He told them the size and layout of the prison, its fortifications and defences, the numbers of guards and their patrol patterns that he had observed throughout the day. His new plan would require a strike force of earthbenders and waterbenders positioned at strategic points around the prison. Their strength would not lie in numbers but in successive attacks deigned to spread the defending forces too thinly. Hana's scouts had arrived from the village each morning to check on Sokka and each time, they gave him more accurate calculations of the numbers of fighters available in the village, and Sokka had planned their attack around those figures.

"That is all good and well, but why should we ask our people to risk their lives for your sake?"

"If the Avatar's personal request isn't enough for you, let me suggest this." Sokka straightened up, his sketches forgotten for the moment. "I've been inside that hellhole. I've seen people being kept in cells barely larger than the seat of your chair, I've seen people who get to eat once a week and get a spoonful of water a day if the guards feel generous. I've seen children born in those cells, who've never seen daylight and can't imagine a world without walls. I've seen people beaten and starved and tortured for _fun_. And although most of the records have been lost, I was able to determine that there are almost four hundred prisoners there. Forty or so of those people are political prisoners, captured from villages on this island and held as collateral. A further twenty are Fire Nation criminals deemed too dangerous to hold in other facilities."

He held the borrowed lantern over his head, casting his face in grim shadows and lighting his sincerity in the flickering emerald glow. "Of those that I could identify among the prisoners, approximately two-hundred were Earth Kingdom citizens imprisoned during the Hundred Years War, and the remaining hundred-odd came from the North and South Water Tribes. Those are members of our people, of _your _people, suffering every single day." Each council member found themselves pinned that earnest blue stare, until he looked to the next. "Every one of you has friends and family that disappeared during the war, whose deaths couldn't be confirmed with a corpse and who were just assumed gone. Why? Because the alternative was too terrible to contemplate." His voice lowered. "For those people, that alternative has been their reality for the past six years. Can you honestly leave them there to suffer any longer?"

"Most impressive," drawled yet another faceless elder. "You are a politician, not a soldier. You can deliver honeyed words, but a silver tongue won't win this battle."

"I have spent years fighting the Fire Nation, in my village and alongside the Avatar during the Hundred Years War." Sokka gestured at the plans scattered across the dirt underfoot. "A general would look at these fortifications and the calculated numbers of the enemy, and he would tell you that this cannot be done with your present forces. That we should wait for the Fire Lord's elite squadrons and for further backup from the Earth Kingdom. Perhaps he would be right." Sokka shrugged. "But I know it can be done."

"Oh really?" queried a third voice, unfamiliar in its inflection, familiar in its faint tone of disbelief.

"A wise bender once taught me that you should never devote all of your energy to a single strike. Make several decisive hits. Break your opponent's stance. Then deliver a final blow. He will fall under his own weight."

"And who was this sage? The Avatar?"

"No." Sokka swallowed the lump in his throat. Aang had indeed related the story to him, but the original teachings had come from another source. "An earthbender, a master of the art." For a moment, he didn't think he had the strength to say her name aloud. But he refused to give in to such weakness. To his surprise, his voice remained steady as his stomach twisted in on itself. "Just a twelve-year-old girl named Toph Bei Fong."

The earthbenders stiffened to a man and a ripple of surprise ran around the circle. It had been a low blow, and Sokka almost regretted invoking the name of a war hero simply to win over a group of stubborn council members.

"Very well, Sokka. We assume that you have identified the weak points to target?"

This was the moment to stop, to back away and confess that he was relying on conjecture over concrete facts. Instead, Sokka nodded firmly and replied, "I believe so. If you look here, I'll show you…" Once again he crouched over his maps, and this time, the entire circle of elders leaned forward to listen intently. The occasional suggestion was made, numbers recalculated or squadrons repositioned, but finally the plans were laid and the decision completed.

"Report to the village hall in the morning," commanded the enormous earthbender that had shown Sokka to the emergency meeting. "We will meet at first light to discuss the organisation of the squadrons." He glanced to his colleagues for unspoken confirmation and, upon seeing their nods, continued, "Your information may interest the other villages immensely. In return for our help, we may be able to persuade them to join us."

"Thank you." Sokka wished that he knew more than two words to fully express the gratitude he felt.

"Don't mistake us. We are doing this for the sake of our lost kin, not for you."

_And you don't think that I might have some relation to those prisoners too? Politicians, always have to spoil a good thing_, Sokka's inner voice complained. He made some polite response to the council and moments later he found himself climbing the stairs up to the surface. A quick stamp from the earthbender ahead of him made the ground split open once more, revealing the night sky above. Sokka emerged from the ground in another area of the wastes and traipsed back to the village, kicking along a rock as if it resembled all of the thoughts that he tried to put into order. Unconsciously his feet led him along the streets towards the infirmary and the healers' houses nearby. Katara was here as a healer, after all, and perhaps she could ease the lingering disquiet that clouded his mind.

* * *

The little boy smiled up at Katara and held up his arms for a hug. His tear-stained face was crinkled up with joy, and as Katara picked him up in her arms, she marvelled at the transformation from screaming and howling to happy and giggling. He showed no more signs of discomfort as she rubbed his belly and handed him back to his mother. The woman could only be a few years older than Katara herself, but like so many of the people Katara saw each day, her face was lined with the troubles that a woman three times her age carried. An hour ago, the distraught woman had almost battered down the infirmary door in her haste to reach a healer. Now she was smiling through her tears of relief and tripping over her words as she tried to thank the waterbender. Katara simply smiled and squeezed her shoulder, offering some last advice as she walked mother and child to the door. She watched them walk away together into the darkness and then closed and bolted the door again.

Katara strode down the narrow aisle between the thick white curtains that enclosed each bed and divided the room into cubicles. One more crisis had been averted for another family, and now she could draw a deep breath and enjoy a moment's respite.

That would all change in a few short days. Hana had told her almost nothing about Sokka's mission, except to tell her of his absence and to prepare the infirmary for a large influx of patients. Katara's questions had gone unanswered, but even Hana's attempts at obfuscation could not divert Katara's suspicions. There was only one place left on the island that could produce the numbers of patients Hana had suggested, but the female elder had clearly been reluctant to discuss it. She could never allow herself to validate Katara's earlier calls for the elders to recognise the prison as a problem that needed to be dealt with. If Katara's theory was correct, Sokka's mission would overthrow the peaceful life of the village for the foreseeable future.

Instead, Hana had ordered Katara to oversee the transfer of the recovered patients to their villages or, for those who chose so, onto the sand-barges, to cross the wasteland and plains beyond to reach the small city on the coast. Most of the infirmary beds were now empty, some with curtains drawn, others open, affording narrow glimpses of the shadowy spaces beyond. Soon they would be full and the infirmary would become another field hospital and another place of noise and chaos. Where too few nurses and even fewer healers rushed between the patients as the air grew thick with moans of pain and pleas for help, with the rancid smell of sweat and fear and blood. But for the moment, Katara found the infirmary a place of calm and quiet.

The only sounds in the room were the slow breaths of the patients sleeping in the beds around her and the occasional rustle of a sheet or a blanket, a murmur as they shifted and settled more comfortably into their world of dreams. From here, they were just shadows behind the thick curtains, which caught the light of the lanterns dotted around the room and glowed in soft shades of cream and gold. Katara wandered from bed to bed as she checked on her patients once more, padding noiselessly across the stone floor and slipping through the curtains with barely a whisper. She was no more than a creeping ghost to the people lying in the beds, no more than a half-heard sound or an unfelt touch stirring at the edge of their awareness. She could disappear and none of them would notice. None of them would remember her in the morning. And in the long hours when night stretched into morning, she felt herself fading away from her own recognition, becoming a ghost in her own skin.

Katara reached out to the last curtain and felt a shock of contact as her fingertips brushed heavy cotton. Ghosts didn't feel. There was a moment's disorientation as she slipped through the opening and found herself in the narrow aisle once more, anchored to the real world by the weight of the curtain in her hand, drawn back into fantasy by the shifting hues of the fabrics stirring in her wake.

The temptation to slip away into that fantasy world was powerful, but Katara knew that she would never answer the call. Her life and all of her problems were hers to deal with, sooner or later, and letting herself sink into whimsy would not help. She rubbed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose as she searched for the strength to stay awake another hour, and the hour after that.

Someone tapped very lightly at the door, rapping out a familiar pattern. A healer was asking to be let in after hours. Katara slid the bolts back and eased the door open far enough to admit the other woman.

"Evenin', Katara." The woman smiled a greeting. "I glanced in the window and you looked like you were havin' some nice thoughts." She chuckled. "You were getting all dreamy and misty-eyed. Must be lovely to have someone special like that."

"Yes," Katara replied neutrally. _I'm sure it must be_.

The healer looked at her oddly for a second, then shrugged it off. Perhaps the rumours linking Katara to the Avatar were untrue after all, the woman thought, but Katara's apprentice had sounded so certain as she relayed the gossip.

"It's been a long time since you've seen him, hasn't it? Well, I wouldn't worry. No one can do better than a pretty Water Tribe girl. His eye won't go wanderin'."

"Thank you." It seemed to be the only answer short of telling the woman to mind her own business. Katara knew that the village's grapevine constantly grew new leaves and branches of scandal and rumour, but she wondered when she had revealed enough of her personal life to add another leaf to the public stem.

"Don't mention it." The other woman followed Katara as she made a final check on each patient and continued prattling. "Looks like it's going to be quiet tonight. Don't tell me, Hana slipped another sleeping draught into their water?"

Katara laughed dutifully and didn't bother to tell the woman that, all jokes aside, she was correct. For some of the patients, it was the only way to give them a decent night's sleep. Katara wanted nothing more than to escape from the heat of the infirmary into the cool night air and, as if reading her mind, the other woman peered closely at her face.

"You know, you look like hell. You should go get some rest."

_Gladly_. "The other healers will be back at sunrise," Katara informed her relief. "Good night." She paused only long enough to sign herself out of the log book and fled before the woman could say anything else.

Katara stepped down into the street and took a deep, bracing breath of the cool night air. A mouthful of dust left her coughing and spluttering and only slightly ruined her moment of self-indulgence. Fortunately there were no witnesses to her embarrassment. Between the searing heat of day and the bitter cold of night, nobody lingered in the village streets a moment longer than they had to. The buildings were functional instead of beautiful, the villagers hard-working, and those who did step outside had a destination in mind, which was reached before the blazing sun became unbearable. The only exceptions were shipping days, which saw all available hands working at the docks to unload and reload the sand-barges that arrived from the harbour on the other side of the island. On a daily basis, however, the concept of a leisurely stroll was unknown here and she had left that practice behind in the cities of the great nations. Here, everybody hurried, and her rapid pace simply made her one more person caught outside after the unspoken curfew.

Katara crossed the street and let herself into her house, but she didn't bother to light the lantern hanging by the front door. She didn't want to ruin her night vision, and she had walked through the darkness enough times that she could navigate the house perfectly. Eight steps from the front door to the kitchen, a further six to the back door, open that and let pale moonlight spill across the earthen floor. She stopped long enough to rummage inside one of the cupboards, letting her fingers brush across the objects inside until she found what she sought by its rough texture. Pulling out the clay flask, she picked up a couple of small glasses in her hand and stepped out onto the back porch.

It had taken several tries to explain to the earthbenders what she wanted, but in the absence of wood she now had an earthen platform adjoining her kitchen that was sheltered by the overhang of the roof. The front of her house faced the village and the back looked onto the vast, open spaces of the wastelands. Most people found the view too melancholy, but there was something in it that Katara found relaxing. Perhaps it was the stars, she mused as she dangled her feet over the edge of the porch.

When she had first come here, the unfamiliar stars had both comforted and disconcerted her. Without the clouds and smog of a city to block their light, thousands of tiny grains lay scattered like sand cast on a fortune-teller's dark cloth, stretching from horizon to horizon. She had sat outside on the night that she arrived here and tried to count the constellations, but she had only found herself weeping at their foreign beauty. They were not the stars that had watched over her childhood in the South Pole or that she had learned to read while wandering in the desert with Aang. They were patterns that she had never seen before and they reminded her that she had left behind everything that she knew to come here. Yet as frightening as that concept was, it reassured her. The very land itself was different here and she was a one stranger among strangers, unremarkable, unremarked. She was simply another ghost on the land, without past or future, lingering here as long as she had a reason not to disappear into the light of the rising sun.

Katara uncorked the flask and inhaled the fumes rising from the liquid inside. She rarely resorted to drinking and the liquor had spent the better part of the last year aging in the back of various cupboards, but on nights like this, when the memories and the thoughts lay close to the surface, she sometimes needed a little additional moral support. She poured a little wine into a glass and took a sip, savouring the bitter taste that made her mouth twist slightly.

"Katara?"

It took her a moment to recognise the voice, a second longer to remember why he would be at her house, then she flew off the porch to throw her arms around him. Sokka held on for a moment longer than she expected and she knew that he was upset.

"Sokka, what is it?" She quickly glanced him over for injuries, but there was only a lingering sadness in his eyes. She knew that sadness all too well; it stared back at her from her reflection every day.

"It's nothing." He attempted to smile and only managed a grimace. "I'm just glad to be back." This time his smile was more genuine. He slung an arm around her shoulders and steered her back towards the porch.

"I thought I'd drop in on my sister and see what she was up to," Sokka continued. "I must say, I didn't expect this. Is that wine?" He gestured at the flask.

_Spirits, why did he return right now?_ Katara asked, but there was no response from the ether. She was pleased to see him, but she also knew that she couldn't easily explain away the flask of rice-wine. Sokka dropped onto the porch and picked up the flask. He took one sniff and pushed it away.

"You actually drink that for fun? You've changed, Katara."

Trying to ignore the unease that Sokka's remark stirred in her, Katara knelt opposite him and laid her hands on her knees. They immediately closed into fists. "So, where were you? It's been three days, Sokka."

"All right." Sokka heard the faint accusation in her tone and immediately moved to defend himself. "If you tell me where you've been for the past _year_, I'll tell you where I was for three days."

"Sokka, I…" _I do owe you an explanation, but please don't ask me to tell you. I can't do it, not yet._

"Hana should have told you this, but I went to the prison." He saw Katara sit up a little straighter, and continued, "We had planned to send the messenger in at dawn and return by nightfall, but we were able to enter the prison and decided to explore. It was just as well." His voice trailed off and his face lost any trace of colour. When he looked at Katara again, his sadness had been replaced by a fierce new resolve. "The people in there need our help _now. _Forget waiting for the Fire Nation reinforcements."

"What are you saying?" Katara asked softly.

"I'm saying that I want to snatch that prison out from under the warden by the full moon. The council are gathering the benders from this village and those nearby for an emergency meeting tomorrow. I want you there, Katara. In two days, we'll be at the prison, and I want you watching my back. I need you as a bender and a healer."

Sokka couldn't mention the man that he had captured and brought back for questioning, but he felt his blood boil once more at the memories. To Katara's surprise, he leapt to his feet and paced the length of the porch. He kept his back turned as he continued, but Katara could hear the sadness and rage in his voice.

"We found a guard attacking a prisoner. He would have killed her if another guard hadn't alerted us. We stopped him, but…" He shook his head in frustration. "That wasn't the only incident. The things that go on there… They've got to stop, _now!_ Before any more innocent people are hurt or killed."

Katara sat completely still as she absorbed Sokka's news. She could barely believe what she had just heard. After all of her petitions to Hana and the council had been denied, after constantly being told to worry about her current problems instead of adding to them, Sokka had just paved the way for her to go to the prison and help people who really needed it. She knew that she should feel ecstatic, and perhaps she would once the shock and confusion wore off. It was excellent news and it was terrible news.

"Sokka…" She tried to break it to him as gently as she could. "We just don't have the numbers to launch an assault against the prison. And frankly, the timing is terrible."

"Timing?" Sokka retorted as he began to pace again. "I'm sorry, let me just go and tell the prisoners that they can enjoy a few more days of being starved and beaten _because we're __too busy to help them!"_

"Sokka, you know that's not what I meant." Katara resisted the urge to let her temper rise to match her brother's. He didn't deserve her anger. "I'm just wondering if we have enough time to do this before…" _Before we have to leave._

"Listen to me." Sokka turned around to face her and Katara saw that his eyes gleamed a little too brightly. "As soon as we can gather our forces, we'll be at the prison. We'll help those people. Whatever it takes."

Katara's heart clenched as if an unseen fist had closed around it. She had heard those words before. She heard them almost every night in her dreams, in the moment before they turned into nightmares. '_Whatever it takes'_. As a teenager, she had been determined to pay that price, regardless of consequence. Now, however, she knew that the price was often too high. She couldn't stand by and watch another sacrifice made in vain.

But how could she even begin to tell Sokka that? It would mean telling him everything, every single thing, and she wasn't ready to do that. Almost six years had passed, yet they had never really talked about what happened on that horrific day, or the days that came afterwards.

"Don't worry," Sokka continued, visibly brightening up as he reached for the flask. "I have a plan, now I just need the means." He gazed at her for a long moment but before Katara could say a word, he poured a generous measure of wine into both glasses and pushed one towards her. He held his glass up and added, "I don't know about you, but I could use a good drink. Here's to having a plan to help those people."

Katara would gladly drink to that. They tapped glasses and Sokka sputtered slightly at the strong taste of the clear liquid. He looked from the bottle to his sister with a newfound respect.

"Where in the world did you get that? Don't tell me you brewed it yourself."

"No." Katara knew her cheeks were turning pink, but she still tried to act nonchalant. "It was a gift from a family I helped once."

"The bottle's half empty! I'm not kidding, how did that happen?"

There had originally been six bottles a year ago but time had whittled the number down to two. Katara didn't bother to tell Sokka; she didn't think he could handle the information right now.

"Oh Sokka, just forget it and drink up."

"Who are you and what have you done with my sister?" He peered at her suspiciously over the rim of his glass. "My sister doesn't know how to have fun. She certainly doesn't drink… whatever this is."

"Rice-wine," she murmured, taking a long sip and rolling the smooth, bitter liquid around her mouth. She shuddered slightly as she swallowed and felt its warmth tingle through her stomach. Already she could feel herself beginning to relax, and she welcomed the half-forgotten sensation.

"You're just full of surprises tonight." Sokka took another mouthful and, once he stopped coughing, a slow smile spread across his face. Venting to Katara had eased his worries left over from the council meeting and the bittersweet wine was making him forget the weight of his troubles. "Good surprises at that."

_Keep drinking, _Katara willed her brother. As long as she kept his glass full and his mind diverted, there would be no need to talk about more personal things. As long as she kept his glass full, she could get through the evening without breaking down and embarrassing herself.

"Where did you get this?" Sokka asked as he slopped more wine into their glasses.

Katara forced her mouth into a bland smile as she replied, "The southern Earth Kingdom. I helped a farmer and his son in return for a few meals and a roof over my head. They gave me this when I left."

"It smells pretty sweet," Sokka remarked as he sniffed at his glass. "The clay flask hasn't affected the taste. I'd guess it's only been bottled about a year, right?"

"Just under a year," Katara replied uneasily. Sokka was clearly fishing for information and while she wouldn't mind telling him about her travels someday, it would raise inevitable questions about why she had left.

"I'll have to find that farm. This is amazing!" Sokka refilled their glasses once again and held his up. Katara knew what was coming. Although she tried to brace herself, she felt her stomach suddenly drop away and where it had been, a great aching void took its place. She desperately wanted to cover her ears and block out Sokka's words, but she also knew that she needed to hear this. She needed to face it once again.

"A toast," Sokka declared, following a pattern that had been established five years ago. "To those we know."

"To those we love," Katara forced out the response in a whisper. The void in her chest was growing, sucking all her warmth away and leaving only cold despair behind. She wanted to get up and run away without looking back until she found herself in a place beyond her fears. She had done it before, after all. But she forced herself to remain in place and resist the temptation to flee. These demons were her own to face.

"To those we knew, and who have gone before us. Spirits bless them." Sokka threw back his drink and poured again.

"Spirits keep and bless them." She drained her glass before she could think better of it. Already the room and the glass in her hand were blurring. She blinked, and the world shattered apart into a thousand pieces, sharp edges glittering and shining silver in the moonlight. She could feel the tears brimming on her eyelashes and knew that she could not stop them from spilling over. She could sense Sokka's compassionate gaze but she refused to turn her face aside.

"You really miss him, don't you?"

"Of course I do! He was our father!" Katara wiped away a tear that had escaped. "Don't you?"

"I miss all of them," Sokka replied softly. He gazed into his drink as if he could see the memories of his past play out there. "It's not so bad most of the time. Then the anniversary comes around, and I can't help but remember."

Katara wiped at her cheeks in a futile attempt to conceal the true depths of her grief. From the uncertain looks that he kept shooting her, she knew that Sokka didn't quite understand her tears, shed six years late. It was time to tell her brother the truth and give him a little piece of the puzzle that she had become.

"I miss them too. I miss them so, so much," she confessed miserably. "Every single day, I think about them. I find myself wishing they were here, that they could see what I'm doing and hear what I'm saying. I think about Mom. I think about…. about Dad. I even think about…" Her throat tightened on a sob, crushing the name unspoken. She looked at Sokka regretfully; she didn't want to say it aloud and cause him any more pain. She struggled on, "Everyone told me it's supposed to get easier, so when does it? It's been six years, for spirits' sake! Every day it hurts just as much as it did the day before. And it's not supposed to." Her voice cracked and broke as she whispered to herself, "It's not supposed to hurt this much."

Sokka reached across the table and laid a clumsy hand on her arm, squeezing with a brother's comfort. "It's okay, Katara," he sought to reassure her. "The anniversary puts it on everybody's mind. We're all hurting."

_He doesn't understand_, Katara realised dully. _He doesn't understand,_ added a voice inside her head, _because you won't tell him anything_. She shook her head as if she could shake away her problems.

"It's not just during the anniversary," she admitted at last. "I think about them constantly, every single day. Whatever I'm doing, I wish that they were here with me to share it."

"And wherever they are, Mom and Dad can see that. It only hurts this much because you love them. Don't be sorry for that." Sokka put his arm across her shoulders and hugged her to his side. Katara closed her eyes and hung her head in silent shame. If Sokka knew the truth… he would never say such kind words to her.

"Do you ever…" Seeing Sokka's curious look, she tried again, "Do you ever think about her?"

"Yes." A single word could convey years of sorrow. "I think about Toph, just like I think about Mom and Dad and everyone who died in the war. But it still gets to me sometimes. When I'm tired, I find myself looking for her or wondering where she is, and then I realise. I mean, you and I were separated, but I always knew that you and Aang were there if I wanted to visit. But Toph… isn't. And it doesn't feel the same without her." Sokka ran his finger around the rim of his glass, producing a faint squeak.

"I'm sorry, Sokka."

He looked up with a question in his eyes.

"I know that you two were… close." Katara had known about the earthbender's not-so-subtle crush on her brother, and she had known that they had confided in one another, but how close had they been in actuality? She frowned. There had been so much that she hadn't bothered to learn in the little time they had shared.

"Yeah." After a second, Sokka took a breath and continued too-cheerfully, "But life goes on for the rest of us. You and Aang are, well, doing your thing. And I've got Suki now. We're happy, aren't we?"

_Are we? _Katara drew her fingertip around the rim of her glass in unconscious mimicry of her brother. It sang a clear, mournful note.

"This happens every year." Whether it was the alcohol or his own need to confess, Sokka ploughed on. "It's only natural to think about what happened. And in a few days' time, everything will settle down and we'll go on as we did before."

Katara wished she could believe her brother's forced cheer. She took another sip of the bitter wine and let it wash the hard lump of sorrow out of her throat. The wine was making her maudlin, as it sometimes did. Sokka could finish the remainder, but she had reached her limit.

"You're right," she agreed dully as she dried her eyes. "And I'm sorry that I got so upset. I don't know why, this never gets any easier to talk about."

Sokka offered her an understanding smile and looked relieved when she smiled weakly in return.

"Speaking of Aang and whatever you're doing with him…" He reached into his shirt and pulled out a scroll, which he presented to her with a knowing smirk. "You've got mail, from the Avatar himself."

"Thanks." Katara wiped away the last of her tears and took the scroll. Sokka looked at her expectantly and waggled his eyebrows. She shoved the flask of wine towards him.

"All right." His smirk became a grin. "I can take a hint. I'll see you in the morning. Sleep tight, Katara." He picked up his glass and the flask of wine, and as an afterthought he turned back to give her another hug. "It's gonna be okay, little sis."

"Good night." Katara smiled as he stumbled into the kitchen and headed towards the guest room, reeling drunkenly into the walls as he went. At least one of them would sleep well that night. As tempting as it was to stay out here a little longer, she could feel herself beginning to shiver with cold. She tucked the scroll in her belt and returned to the house, locking the door behind her. She tiptoed down the hall to her own bedroom.

Inside, she felt her way to the window and threw the shutters open, letting the moonlight pour over her and into the room. She leaned against the window sill and closed her eyes, enjoying the cool midnight breeze blowing across her face and neck. Finally curiosity won out over her trepidation and she broke the seal on the scroll.

Aang's penmanship had improved since he last wrote to her, Katara realised wearily, but he had changed little since they last spoke a year ago. Whatever anger and frustration Aang felt at the slow progress of the political negotiations had vanished with his delight at finding her once again. He talked about the day they would meet again with a degree of enthusiasm and optimism that outstripped even her memories of him. He looked forward to every new day, because it would bring them closer to meeting. There were other words in there that she hadn't expected to see, like _reunion _and _promise _and _love_.

_We'll go on like we did before_. Sokka's words echoed in her mind. Obviously Aang wasn't concerned by her absence. _That's a good thing_, she reassured herself. There would be no need for long explanations or pleas for understanding. She read the letter again and this time she allowed herself to fell the comfort of Aang's words. He was completely happy, and he promised that they would meet again in a few short days. _And then, I'll clear up any confusion between us._

Katara rolled up the scroll again and quickly undressed for the night. She never used the bed, preferring the worn sleeping roll that had accompanied her on her travels. She snuggled into the thick, silken fur and breathed the familiar scent, letting it reassure her once again and take her back to happier days. Her hand tightened around Aang's letter and pressed it to her breast. Aang would be with her soon, and all would be right with the world.

Katara's eyes snapped open and she stared into the darkness. She could lie to her brother and Aang, but she could never lie to herself. Aang alone wasn't enough to set right everything that had gone wrong with her world. There was one person who would have seen through all of her deceit, and Katara felt sadness well inside her heart at the thought. She could imagine the blind girl's reaction if she could hear Katara's thoughts that evening. But Katara only carried the memory of that roguish grin and the mocking laughter that would have accompanied it.

She would never hear the earthbender's laugh again. She would never hear another sarcastic remark from those lips or see another knowing smirk cross that pale face. She would never be called Sugar Queen again with such a perfect mixture of derision and affection. The thought filled her with deepest sorrow and she sought the anger that usually followed it, but this time there was no such relief. Without the distraction of anger, there was only the unbearable loneliness, and the knowledge that no living person could offer her solace.

Katara curled into a tight ball, clutching Aang's letter tightly. She focused on her memory of his grinning face, those grey eyes closed with joy, his hand resting on the blue tattoo on his forehead. She refused to let herself think about those other memories, of another grinning face, of sightless eyes half-hidden beneath unruly black bangs.

No, she would think of Aang and only Aang. The airbender would be here soon and while he might not be able to cure her desolate mood, she hoped that he could lessen it.

* * *

_**To be continued...**  
_


End file.
